Dance, water, dance
by brightmoor
Summary: Demyx teaches Zexion to dance. Zemyx, with Demyx *not* being stupid, for once.


As he walked down the hallway, Zexion thought he heard music coming from the ballroom, but he wasn't quite sure. Surely a scientific mind like his could resist the temptation to find out. What if it was something embarrassing? He'd never be able to apologize. What if it was a secret birthday party? He'd be intruding. Surely he wouldn't be distracted by the beautiful waltz drifting from the slightly ajar door.

_Well, nothing is certain_, he thought, peeking through the door.

Zexion saw Demyx playing his sitar. Several of his water clones waltzed around the room. He watched them for a moment, and Demyx didn't notice.

"I didn't know you could waltz," Zexion said, stepping inside the ballroom.

Demyx gasped and the water splashed to the ground, now formless.

"Um, I—Zex, uh—" stuttered Demyx.

"What? It's impressive. I wish I could dance."

"Really?" Demyx said. "I could teach you or something, if you want. Just promise not to tell anyone about it."

"Alright," Zexion said. "Should I take notes or what? Do we start now or later? Shall I close the door?"

"You ask too many questions," Demyx smiled. "Now's fine, I guess. Yeah, close it. I don't want Axel wandering in or something."

Zexion closed the door as Demyx conjured another water clone from the puddles on the floor.

"Now you," he said. "Make one of yours."

"I don't have Lexicon with me," Zexion said. "Besides, the paper would get wet."

"Oh," Demyx said, disappointed. He frowned and let the clone splash to the floor again. "How about you, then?"

"What?"

"We don't need the clones. I can dance without them, see?" Demyx grabbed Zexion's wrist and led him to the center of the ballroom. Zexion attempted to stutter in disagreement, but Demyx was allowing no room for dissent.

"One two three~ One two three~ I like waltzing~ With Zexy~" he sang, placing Zexion's arm on his shoulder. He slid his own arm around Zexion's waist, surprising the blue-haired boy. "You mean you've never danced at all? The gentleman puts his arm around the lady's waist, silly."

"Can we please think of new terms, as I am most assuredly not a lady," Zexion said, cringing.

Demyx tilted his head to the side in thought. "Nope!" he said cheerfully.

"Very well, then. What will we do for music?" Zexion asked, looking up at Demyx and inwardly damning his height.

"Who needs music _all_ the time," Demyx said. "Put your feet like this."

"This way?" Zexion asked, inadvertently leaning into Demyx. "And that's strange, coming from you. I never see you without Arpeggio."

"Meh," replied Demyx. "I'm getting tired of it lately, y'know? Maybe I'll take up drums. No, no, not like that. Your right foot goes over here," he said, pointing.

"Oh, okay. That makes sense."

"Put your arm like this, and come closer, silly. You're too far away." Demyx pulled Zexion closer, causing him to turn a strange pink color. _Nonsense,_ he thought. _There's no way. I'm a logician; I'm not an emotive person at all._

"Um, can we—"

"Nope. You're going to learn this step before I let you go," Demyx said. "Honestly, it's not that difficult."

"I think I'd find it less difficult if there were music."

"Of all the things you could comment on, you comment on the lack of music," Demyx laughed. "How adorable."

"What?"

"Oh, did I say that out loud? Uh-oh."

"Did you plan this whole thing? You knew I'd be in the hallway, didn't you? You've had your own motives this whole time, right?"

"You're the schemer, not me," said Demyx. "Now go like this. One, two-three. One, two-three."

Zexion mimicked Demyx, but he couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said. What did he mean, adorable? And that Zexion was the schemer?

"Can't stop thinking about it, hm?" Demyx asked, when Zexion had finally gotten the hang of it. They'd been dancing in silence for nearly ten minutes, practicing the same step over again. Zexion still clung unconsciously closely to Demyx.

"Um—" Zexion said, blushing again.

"Obviously, or you wouldn't be holding on so tightly."

"What has gotten into you?" asked Zexion suddenly. "You're normally so... ditzy."

"I thought you liked intelligence?"

"Well, yes, but—oh. I see. You're trying to impress me with all this weird pretense, right? You're not acting like you usually do." _Maybe it's working, his pretense. ...Maybe? What am I talking about? This makes no sense._

"That explains why you're still clinging to me like a little koala," Demyx said in a singsong voice.

The Cloaked Schemer didn't let go. "S-so?" he asked, almost childishly.

"So, what? Something you wanna say?"

"Yes, actually. Why am I still hanging on to you? This makes no sense. It's irrational."

"Lots of things about emotions are irrational. For example, cupcakes make me insanely happy, for no apparent reason."

"Oh... is that so."

"You make me happy," Demyx said more quietly.

"Is—is that so."

"It is," Demyx said. "And you seem happy. Do I make you happy?"

Zexion leaned into Demyx's chest, blushing. "I think so. I've never been happy before."

"Then we'll have another lesson tomorrow. We'll keep doing this until you get it right."


End file.
